


The Rise And Fall Of Cas

by Pandastuff101



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #depressedcas, #destiel, #fallenCas, #gods, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandastuff101/pseuds/Pandastuff101
Summary: Dean, Sam, and Cas face off against Dolos, the god of lies and deceit. But, recently, Cas had been keeping a secret from the Winchester brothers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Self-Harm

It wasn't like he had never done this before. Castiel had to do it all the time, now he thought about it. During conjuring spells, drawing sigils, protecting the Winchesters. But it was different this time, he knew. He watched, face impassive, as the blood ran down his arm from the cut. Cas was surprised that it only stung slightly.

He sighed, almost relieved, and put the knife to his arm again.

Dean and Sam were out of the bunker to day, checking out a few mysterious cut throats in town. Earlier that afternoon, Dean had called to tell Cas not to expect them home until later the next night.

He closed, his eyes letting the knife sink into the skin of his upper arm. Images flashed before his closed lids, of Heaven, his siblings who he hadn't seen in years, and most of all, he felt it again. The feeling of falling over and over. Disconnecting from Heaven, and feeling his wings simply float away.

Abandoning him.

A tear slipped down Cas' cheek, and his calm facade broke. He took out a rag and the bottle of antiseptic, and began to clean up his mess with shaky hands. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and he stopped patting his arm with the rag. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, and put his face in his hands.

Cas screamed silently.

Outside the bathroom, he heard the echo of footsteps in the hall. He stood up warily, picking up his newly-cleaned knife. The footsteps were getting closer to the bathroom, and Cas quickly turned off the light so it didn't flood into the hall underneath the door. He pressed his back against the hard wood of the entrance, and waited. The footsteps continued past, but he didn't dare let himself release a breath of relief.

Whoever was walking in the hall turned around, heading straight for the bathroom. Cas prepared himself to fight.

They stopped outside the door and knocked, once, twice.

"Cas? You in there? Sam and I need advice about a few weird symbols we found on the vics. " said a familiar, deep voice.

He let loose the puff of air, then, and sank against the door. 

¨I will be right out, Dean.¨ said the fallen angel, surprised at how collected his voice was.

"'Kay. Sam and I will be waiting for you in the War Room."

"Of course." Cas said. He heard Dean turn on his heel, and listened as the sound of his steps faded away.

Cas cleaned up his mess, and bandaged his cuts. It wasn't the first time he had done this, and he knew what had to be done to cover his activities.

He made his way into the war room, and found Sam and Dean gathered around the map table. They were pointing to different sections, putting a red-headed pin at the location of their hunt. Sam was inspecting a small piece of paper closely, as if looking for something in the dark ink.

Cas walked up behind them, so he was standing at Dean's elbow.

"What are we looking at?" he said, his voice gravelly.

Dean glanced back at him quickly before looking back to the map again.

"We're not sure, actually. It's a symbol, of sorts, but we don't know of what. It was carved into every victim's flesh, and their tongues were taken out, too."

Cas examined the map, his brow furrowed.

"I don't understand...I'm not familiar with this symbol."

Sam threw up his hands, "Neither am I! I’m guessing some kind of God, but I’m not sure which one."

Dean rubbed his face, sighing, "Let me guess....this means research."

Sam nodded, almost happily.

*Four Hours Later*

"I've got it!" Sam said triumphantly, waving over the other two men.

They went to his side, and looked down at the old book Sam was reading from.

"It's the symbol of Dolos, the Greek god of lies. He tricked the god Apollo by making a perfect copy of a statue of the goddess Veritas.” Sam raised an eyebrow, “Apparently, he has a thing for eating the tongues of liars.”

Dean made a sound of disgust, and Cas crossed his arms over his chest.

“He appears to fit the profile.”

“Yeah, the question is, how do we kill this son of a bitch?” Dean asked.

“A ram’s horn, dipped dog’s blood.” he said, his lips tight. He released a breath out of his nose, “Gosh, I hate it when we have to use dog’s blood.”

Dean stared at him, uncomprehending, “Dude, it’s just a dog.”

Sam shook his head, knowing his brother wouldn’t understand.

Dean turned back to Cas, “Are you coming?”

Cas was taken aback for a moment, “Me? Wh-why? I can’t do anything without my Grace.”

Something like sadness flashed in Dean’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Cas was sure he had imagined it. After all, why would Dean be sad for him?

Dean clapped a hand on Cas’ shoulder comfortingly, “Of course you can. You’re still a hunter, Cas. And we’d really appreciate the extra hands.”

Cas’ eyes were filled with doubt, but he tried not to show it. He simply nodded, and the hunters smiled at him. Like they were truly glad that he was coming. How strange.

They searched the bunker, and it didn’t take long for Dean to find a ram’s horn that they could use. As for the dog’s blood...well, the less said about this the better. They climbed into the Impala, and began to drive.

The case wasn’t that much of a ways away, hence why the Winchester brothers were able to come back to get the fallen angel. They arrived in the town, and it was unclear to Cas why the god of lies and deception had chosen such a town.

It was very peaceful, beautiful even. The sort of place one would settle down and raise one point five kids with the love of your life. The streets were neatly paved, and rows of towering birch trees lined the sidewalk. It was dark out, but streetlamps flooded the road with light. They parked the Impala, and climbed out.

They had opted not to wear suits, hoping it would be easier to talk to people undercover. They made their way down the street, to a very out-of-place building. It was odd to see a bar among the rows of cookie cutter houses, and Cas actually did a double take when he saw it. Dean saw this.

“I know, right? This place went up only a few weeks ago, right when the killings started.”

Cas nodded in understanding, and they began to walk to the bar.

It was full of people and noise, and again, Cas was surprised. At first glance, it seemed to be a nice town. He would never guess the inhabitants of such a place would flock so willingly to a den of iniquity.

They made their way to the bar, and sat down on three empty stools. Dean raised a hand, and the bartender stopped his conversation with another customer to tend with them.

He was a stout man with black hair, and big brown eyes so dark it looked as though there was no pupil in them. He took out three glasses, and looked to each man in turn.

“Whiskey,” Dean said predictably. Sam shot him a dirty look.

“Just a beer.”

The man looked at Cas last, and he shot Dean a confused look. The hunter laughed at Cas’ utter confusion.

“He’ll have a shirley temple.” Dean ordered, chuckling.

The man poured their drinks, putting a cherry in Cas’ glass. He took a tentative sip. Dean was watching him with a curious gaze, and Cas smiled at him. Liking what he tasted, he took another long drink. A smile played at the corner of Dean’s lips, and he looked away to take a gulp of his own drink.

“So,” Sam began, catching the bartender’s attention, “who own’s this place, anyway?”

The bartender barely spared him a glance before returning to the glass he was drying with a rag.

“Who’s asking?”

Sam raised his hands defensively, “Just curious. But, then again, I’m am really curious…” he reached into his wallet tentatively and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. He slid it across the counter to the man, who glanced around before taking it. The bartender put it in his pocket.

“Everyone calls him Mev. Wait up a few minutes, he usually comes in around ten.”

Dean glanced at the clock. It was quarter to ten now.

Sam slid another bill across the bar to the man, who took it and went to tend to the other customers.

Dean downed his drink, and put down the glass with a thud. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Got the ram’s horn, Sammy?” he asked in a low tone.

His brother nodded, looking down at the duffle bag at his feet. Dean bobbed his head, reassured.

Cas watched the door, sipping at his Shirley Temple. Sure enough, right on time, a man walked in the door. He was different from everyone else in the building, though Cas couldn’t tell what made him feel this. Maybe it was the way he walked, with confidence but also almost...gracefully. He weaved in and out of the crowd, reminding Cas of a pickpocket.

The man stopped at the bar, too close to Cas for him to be comfortable. The fallen angel turned on his stool so he was watching the man out of the corner of his eye. He was looking at the boy next to Cas almost hungrily as he held up his license for the bartender to see. The poor boy was shaking, it was pretty obvious that he was younger than twenty-one. The bartender shrugged, and poured him his drink anyways. The boy’s shoulders slumped in relief. The man took a deep breath, and clapped his hands. The boy jumped, sloshing his drink down the front of his shirt.

“Jeremy!” the man boomed, “How goes things!”

Jeremy smiled nervously at his apparent boss, “It’s all going great, Mev. Buisness just gets better everyday.”

“Good, good.” Mev turned to let his eyes roam over Castiel.

Cas took another sip of his drink, his stomach turning unpleasantly. He saw Dean and Sam watching him out of the corners of their own eyes.

“I’ve never seen you before! What’s your name, stranger?” Mev said, smiling at Cas.

Cas took a breath, “Castiel.”

Mev raised an eyebrow, “Like the angel?”

Cas nodded.

“Well! Interesting! My name is Mev, and I’m the owner of this fine establishment. Having a good night?”

Cas nodded vigorously, “Oh, yes.”

“Would you be interested in the V.I.P section of the bar? It’s very exclusive, but, then, you’re a special guest I can tell.” he winked at Cas.

“That would be great.” Cas smiled, and licked his lips.

The man put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, and he rose from the stool. He didn’t look at Dean and Sam, so as not to blow their cover. Mev led him to the back of the bar, away from all the noise. It was chillingly, impossibly quiet considering their closeness to the noise. Mev led Cas to a velvet couch, and walked over the small, polished bar to pour him another Shirley Temple. Cas took it with shaking hands.

There was only a few other people in there with them, and Cas pretended not to notice how blank their faces were.

Mev raised a thin eyebrow, taking a sip of his own drink, “What do you think?”

“I-It’s very nice back here. The couch is so comfortable.” Cas said awkwardly, smiling at Mev.

Mev smiled back, “It is, isn’t it? My favorite place. Quiet, private. Makes my job very easy.”

Cas swallowed, “Oh?”

“Yes.” Mev said nodding and stepping closer to Cas, “You can’t hear any noise from the bar, and they can’t hear you scream.”

Cas rolled out of the way as Mev lunged to him, a knife appearing in his hand. It’s gold hilt was covered with etched-in symbols.

Cas jumped to his feet, and Mev spun to face him. The dull-faced people kept drinking as though nothing was happening.

“Dean! Sam!” Cas yelled.

“Your hunter friends can’t hear you, remember?” he laughed at the shocked look on Cas’ face, “I’m the god of lies, Castiel. I know when I’m being deceived.”

Cas took an involuntary step backward as the god approached him. He felt the hard, polished wood of the bar against his back and knew he was trapped. Mev, or Dolos, closed the distance between them. He smiled victoriously, and Cas prepared himself for the final blow. He was unarmed, trapped, and no help was on the way. Cas was doomed.

Instead of hurting him, the god put two fingers on Cas’ forehead. He closed his eyes, and smiled. Cas’ face paled, and he felt like his life source was draining out of him.

Dolos licked his lips, and opened his eyes. They glowed a stunning gold.

“Delicious, delicious. You lie so much, Castiel. To your family, your friends, yourself. I can’t wait to eat your tongue, it ought to be very plump with all of them.”

Cas’ heart sank in his chest, but the god still made no move to hurt him. Instead, he actually stepped back.

“Can I see them?” he asked conversationally.

Cas cocked his head, confused.

The god sighed, “The cuts, Cas.”

Stunned, Cas took off his trench coat and rolled up his sleeves. The god hummed, pleased.

“You know, Castiel, the biggest lie we can tell is simply, “I’m fine.”’

Cas snorted at how cliche the god sounded, and tried to pull his arm away. He god held it tight, and let his fingers trace one of the fresh cuts carefully. Cas hissed, his scars growing intensely cold. Cas was surprised it didn’t frost over.

The god hmmd, watching as neat, black letters appeared on Cas’ wrist.

Work with a demon? Absolutely preposterous.

I don’t know who raised Sam.

Samandriel was compromised.

I’m doing this for the boys.

I’m doing right.

Those weren’t the only words that appeared. There were at least a dozen other lies inked onto his skin. The one Cas eyed the longest, the hardest, the one that made him feel sick was,

I am fine.

The words, slowly faded into his skin. The chill sank in with them and, though it was dulled, Cas could feel it in his blood. He closed his eyes, unsteady on his feet.

“You see, Castiel, no one is free of lies. They are like germs; just being alive and human means you are burdened with them. And they spread so quickly.” he smiled coldly, “I don’t have a ton of lore on me. My deeds are not very well documented. But I am powerful, Castiel. Truly.”

Cas could barely hear him, Dolos’ words like water in his ears. The more the god spoke, the harder it was for Cas to think.

“Dean. Sam.” he murmured.

He wasn’t asking for help. At this point, faced with everything he had ever lied about and done, Cas didn’t feel he deserved to be save. He was just pleading for the boys to forgive him.

The god’s nails expanded into claws, sharp and dark brown. His gold eyes flashed with excitement. He moved to Cas again, and he was to done to stop him. His eyes stared past the god, looking at the blurry shapes of the V.I.Ps. Cas didn’t want to look at the god, he didn’t want to see his impending death. The god reached out a hand, and took Cas’ chin in his hand. Dolos’ claws dug into Cas’ skin, drawing blood without any effort. Cas closed his eyes.

A sudden sound, like halting static, caused him to open his heavy lids. The god was staring in disbelief at the bloody tip of a horn jutting out from below his heart. Red light flickered out of every opening in him, his eyes, mouth, nose, and the wound. His gold eyes shone with the red light, and Dean pulled out the horn. Dolos stopped shining, and dropped to the floor. Dead.

Cas’ knees buckled, and he almost fell down next to the god. Dean caught him by the elbow, and led him over to the velvet couch. Cas blearily noted that all the partygoers had disappeared into thin air. Dean crouched next to the couch, and Sam stood behind him. Cas saw their mouths move, and knew that they were speaking, but he heard nothing for the longest time.

Cas saw Sam point to his bare arm, and Dean snapped his gaze to it. His green eyes filled with filled with rage, worry, sadness, and something Cas could not attribute to anything but love all at once. Dean lightly traced his fingers on Cas’s arm, just like Dolos had done. But this felt different. The touch alone was bringing Cas back to reality. His vision solidified, and he began to hear a high pitched ring. He shook his head as though trying to rid himself of it, but Dean held him still.

Over the ringing, Cas heard Dean tell him to stay still. Dean’s voice was carefully controlled.

Sam brought water over from the bar, and dumped it onto Cas’ face. He blinked, and coughed. The ringing slowly faded, and Cas tried to sit up. Reluctantly, Dean let him. He didn’t let go of Cas’ wrist as he sat on the couch next to him. He ran his hand lightly up Cas’ arm, and the fallen angel tried not to shiver.

“Did...did Dolos do this to you?” he asked, not looking at Sam.

Cas closed his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“Dean, maybe we should do this late-” Sam tried.

Dean cut him off, “No. It’s okay, Cas, we can get these cleaned up. That SOB can’t hurt you anymore.” he said comfortingly.

Cas’ heart broke at Dean’s effort to deny the truth of what Cas had done, and he dropped his head in his hands. A tear ran unchecked down his cheek, and Cas didn’t bother wiping it away. Dean did it for him, and wrapped his arm around the fallen angel.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” he soothed.

Cas shook his head, sobbing, “Dean-Dean I-I-”

Sam stepped in, then, and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. He knelt down before him and made Cas look him in the eyes. It was hard, but Cas did.

“Just tell us why.” Sam said quietly.

“I don’t understand, it was the monster, right? Cas, right?”

Cas didn’t look at Dean. Terrible realization dawned on the hunter, and he rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry.” Cas said brokenly.

Sam rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, “It’s okay Cas. Just tell us.”

Cas shook his head slowly, “I’m sorry.” he repeated.

Sam nodded.

Dean didn’t look at the angel, but he pulled him tighter. His green eyes were trained on his lap, and his face was drained of color.

Cas tentatively took his hand, forcing the hunter to look up at him in surprise.

“I am so, so sorry, Dean.” he whispered, like sorry was all he was capable of saying.

Dean nodded, and put Cas’ hand on his heart. He searched the angels eyes.

“Never again.” he said solemnly.

Cas bit his lip, but nodded. Dean wrapped his arms around the angel, and Cas put his head on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter held him tighter that he had ever been held, and rubbed Cas’ back.

“Never, never, never.” he repeated softly in Cas’ ear. Over and over again.

Cas clung to him, fistfuls of Dean’s shirt in his clenched hands. Dean kissed Cas’ temple.

“I promise.” Cas said, and he wasn’t lying.


End file.
